The Diary Of Donnatella Moss
by Rhasa aka Sarah
Summary: J/D Donna turns to the pages of her diary once again, this time to help her understand Josh’s recent actions. Next Entry UP
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 1 Author: Rhasa Category: Angst/Drama Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Season 3 and 4 Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to the almighty Aaron Sorkin and all his minions. No money being made, no infringement intended. Summary: Donna turns to the pages of her diary once again, this time to help her understand Josh's recent actions. Feedback: Oh please, it would so make me feel good right now. Even if you just said you read it. I also have plans for a continuation so if you'll request I'll write. Rhasa4@yahoo.com  
  
The Diary of Donnatella Moss By Rhasa  
  
Entry 1: 'Rein him in.'  
  
You'd think that after all the trouble I had with Cliff, and my testimony, and the whole 'diary' thing, that I would have sworn off ever turning to these pages again - 'guess time heals all wounds.  
  
I know I shouldn't be writing this down. Written words have a habit of coming back to haunt you. But I just can't help it. I've always kept a diary, well always since I was eight. And up until Cliff, I always welcomed the freedom it gave me - the ability to write whatever I wanted, say whatever I felt, to explore things, make discoveries that I know I wouldn't have made if I hadn't put it down in black and white, if I hadn't hashed it all out in pages like these ones.  
  
It pissed me off that Cliff and his investigative committee took all that freedom away from me. You can see that I haven't written in this for over a year now. And I missed it. I missed the writing. I miss the confidence. I guess as I was growing up, filling diary upon diary of silly girlish dreams, of hopes and expectations that I never really stopped to think about my diary as a confidant, almost like a friend. Some of the things I have written in these pages, I would never, ever say to my friends.  
  
Which is why I need it now more than ever.  
  
There are times in a person's life when they need a silent confidant. Someone who will not really make a comment, or give advice, but someone who will just listen, as you (as I've said before) simply "hash" things out. I imagine other people go through this as much as I do. I don't always need the input of others during difficult or emotional times. If I'm really honest with myself, I'll admit that most of the time when I'm unsure about something and I talk it over with friends, I already have a deep rooted idea of what I should or shouldn't do. Sometimes I just want others to agree with me, other times I just want them to listen to me as I sort everything out in my head. Which brings me to today, and why I've broken my self-imposed 'diary writing' ban.  
  
I guess as I write this I haven't decided what to do about. well, things.  
  
Well, in particular a certain thing. that happened today.  
  
At work.  
  
With Josh.  
  
I can't even put a name to what it was, hence the need for these pages, again. And there's no one I could really talk to about it.  
  
Josh and I are rather 'off limit' topics of conversation around the office. I mean, I wonder what Josh, or Sam, or Leo for that matter, think about us assistants? Do they really think that we get together and gossip about our bosses all day long? Well, okay. Occasionally, very occasionally, we do, we have. but now it seems we don't. It's not productive and to be honest, most of the assistants to the senior staff aren't gossipy or 'bitchy' people anyway. Not like I hear assistants in the private sector are. I guess that's why we got to be, and still are, senior assistants to the White House Staff.  
  
So we don't talk all that much about 'personal' work related stuff. We don't gather in the bullpen like school girls and giggle over the cuteness of Sam's butt, or Josh's dimples or whatever. We don't talk about it, but that doesn't mean that we don't think about it.  
  
But I'm not going to go there.  
  
To put it simply, something happened today. I don't know what it was. I don't know if it meant something. I don't have a name for it yet. It bothers me. I don't even know if 'bothers' is the right word. And I need to hash it out here, now, so I can decide what to do or what not to do about it.  
  
Now why couldn't I have just said all that in the first place?  
  
I guess I can understand Josh's frustration when he yells at me to get to the point.  
  
Whatever it takes.  
  
I have to say one thing straight up - I totally blame Leo for this. thing.today. It is totally his fault. I mean it's not like anyone ever says no to Leo when he tells you to do something. That would be, well, career suicide for one thing - but I should have said no to him. Maybe without using the 'n' word. I should have somehow politely reminded him that Josh did not need a babysitter, that he was totally capable of handling himself in a respectful and professional manner when meeting others if the need to do so was made poignantly clear - even if I didn't exactly believe that myself. Maybe I should have been more assertive and reminded Leo that babysitting my boss was not really in my job description. Saying something like that - again, career suicide. So, Leo pretty much has us all over the proverbial barrel. Which is why I did what he told me to.  
  
"Rein him in, Donna."  
  
It seems like a simple enough request. I have in fact, been 'reigning' him in for years. I don't think it's lost on anyone that Josh can get pretty wild if no one is there to keep him in line. And there are times when he's much worse than others.  
  
Going into the lead up to re-election I knew that there was the chance that Josh would go off the rails a bit. And he wouldn't be the only one. I mean it's frantic here at the best of times. But a part of me knew that he would have another 'let's do good' epiphany right before America went to the polls. It's his social conscience, which works at full speed at the best of times, but seems to rear its' optimistic head right before we hit a sink or swim challenge.  
  
I knew he would be looking for everything to run smoothly - as if that is ever possible working in the White House. I knew he'd want to be able to predict the move of all the players around him giving him a feeling that he was somewhat in control of what we call the 'circus' that is politics and government. And as soon as I heard, I knew that the thing with Stackhouse and the debate would be a problem.  
  
You see Josh has a tendency to fixate on certain things. Surprise, surprise.  
  
He tends to feel, oh the tiniest bit slighted when someone he thought he knew, who he thought he had in the bag so to speak, stabs him in the back.  
  
So the thing with Stackhouse and the debate and his 'now-it's-looking-like- he's-not-going-to-endorse-the-President,' really, really, really got to Josh.  
  
So I can understand why Leo wanted me to go to the meeting between Josh and Stackhouse. I can understand Leo's concern. I can understand why he wanted me there just in case. just in case. well, just in case I needed to 'reign him in'. I just wished Leo hadn't.  
  
It was not like he was off the mark though. I think the shouting started a whole six minutes in. And really I thought that must have been some kind of record for Josh. The yelling occurred not much later. But I guess it was the arm waving that was a real surprise. I could tell from Josh's tone that he was dying to leap to his feet. He was building himself up to a full fledged tantrum, the likes of which I have been privy to before, but thankfully not too often. He wanted out of that chair so bad, but something Leo, or maybe even the President, had said to him must have registered in the back of his brain, because instead of jumping up, he settled for madly gesticulating with his hands and arms to show his displeasure. Which was all very well and good - except for after doing so (waving around like some mad man) for several minutes, as he was nearing the climax in his latest argument, he almost gave Toby a black eye.  
  
And that was it.  
  
It was then that Leo's words came back to haunt me, and I reached over to. rein Josh in.  
  
Which is where my troubles began.  
  
He was mostly in his seat, which is something, I guess. But his arms were still waving wildly through the air. I tried gently calling his name, in that soft warning tone I've used on him before. But he was too wrapped up to hear or notice me. He began his next barrage, steadily increasing his tone, heading for the inevitable, and I knew I had to put a stop to it, before he said or did something we'd all end up regretting - there was a pitcher of water standing ominously close by. I had to stop him. This was why I was here, after all. So I did what I think any good personal assistant would do. I saved him from himself by calmly reaching over and putting a firm hand on his knee, under the table. A subtle warning sign that only he and I would know about.  
  
And it worked too.  
  
Surprisingly well, in fact. kind of.  
  
As soon as my hand found him he stopped yelling. That was a good sign. But as I turned my attention back to the table, I realised that he had merely been interrupted by one of Stackhouse's senior aides, so maybe I couldn't give myself credit for Josh's sudden silence.  
  
Josh drew a hand over his tired face, leaned back a little, appeared to be listening and slightly more relaxed. And then. I mean all this happened in a second.maybe two at the most. and then, I was about to withdraw my hand, the immediate crisis now seemingly over, when his own hand came to rest on mine. And at first I thought nothing of it. A gentle squeeze back, that said silently something like, "Thanks, Donna. I'm okay now." Really, that's what I was thinking at the time. I smiled, glad that he was now in control, that my work here was done and that everything would get back to normal. Except as I drew away slightly, he increased his pressure and held my hand there.  
  
And he didn't let go.  
  
For another eighteen minutes.  
  
Which left me in a . flap.  
  
Josh was sitting there, in a meeting, holding my hand. What's more is that he didn't even acknowledge that he was doing it. Not a look, or a smile or a shrug in my direction. I really had no idea what was going on inside his head. Or inside of mine for that matter. I mean, I guess in hindsight, I could have torn my hand away. But that would have become even more awkward, especially after six minutes when he laced his fingers through mine.  
  
I don't know. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.  
  
I was glad that ever since he started to hold my hand he hadn't resorted back to yelling. I guess that's what I used to justify my continuing to keep my hand there. Was that why he was so calm afterwards?  
  
I tried hard not to over analyse it at the time. I tried hard to concentrate on the meeting. But I wasn't really successful. I felt uncomfortable, not by the actually hand holding, that was nice, sweet in a way, but uncomfortable because I kept wondering if Toby who was on the other side of Josh would know what we were doing. I had a sudden fleeting panic that Josh had thought that by placing my hand on his knee I was coming onto him. I worried about all the possibilities that such a gesture could mean. I worried about what I would say to him afterwards, and what he would say to me. And I sat there confused and panicky throughout the rest of the meeting, waiting, waiting, for his comments or his explanations. And all I got, at the end, when we all rose to leave and he finally let go of my hand and brought his out from under the table to carry the files back to his office was a, "Well, I guess that went about as well as we'd expected," before Toby piped in and led him off into another conversation as they walked back to the communications offices together.  
  
Leaving me standing there wondering and confused. much the same as I am now.  
  
I mean, maybe it really did mean nothing. Maybe he was using me as his anchor or whatever. I don't know.  
  
ARGH! This whole thing makes me feel like I'm back at high school.  
  
So I guess the question now is, do I approach him about it and possibly make a complete fool of myself when he says that it was nothing? Or do I wait and see.  
  
I guess, I'll wait.  
  
I'll save myself any embarrassment from a confrontation. But knowing me, I'll probably won't be able to stop myself from thinking about future possibilities. I've always been one to 'jump the gun' so to speak.  
  
No.  
  
This time, I wait. I'll be cautious. More often than not these things are not what they seem. Why get my hopes up?  
  
Oh, god. I can't believe I just thought that.  
  
I got to wonder though, after today, just whom reined whom in?  
The end.  
  
As said above I have plans for more. Please let me know if you'd like more. For that and all other feedback Rhasa4@yahoo.com  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I know this 'diary' entry is rather longish but this is exactly like my own diary entries. I use a large exercise book now with multiple page entries and I write like I speak. 


	2. Entry 2 Spinning out of control

Title: The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 2 Author: Rhasa Category: Drama/Humour Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Vague Season 4 Summary: Donna continues to muse over Josh's strange behaviour. Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made (but I often wonder just what life would be like if it did). No Infringement intended. Feedback: YES please Rhasa4@yahoo.com Archive: Yeah okay.  
  
The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 2 By Rhasa  
  
Entry 2 'Spinning out of control'  
  
Sometimes I really wish that I was more assertive. Yeah, I know. Some people already think I'm assertive - a certain unappreciative boss comes to mind. Maybe "opinionated" is a better way to describe me. I have opinions. I have strong opinions, but that is totally different to being assertive, which is something I'm not, but desperately want to be.  
  
I know a lot of assertive women.  
  
CJ is assertive.  
  
Mrs Bartlett is assertive.  
  
Mrs Landingham was assertive in her own kind of way. God rest her soul.  
  
Hell, even Amy was assertive.  
  
And Mandy was. no, Mandy was freakish.  
  
I look around work and notice that every woman there is more assertive than I am. I don't know exactly what it is, but Margaret, Ginger, Carol - especially Carol - Bonnie, Cathy; they all seem to put themselves out there with an air of confidence that just astounds me. I'm really not like them - I'm not - no matter how much of a poker face I put on.  
  
When we first started here, in the White House, I used to think that the doubts that I had about myself were because I was a freak. Oh, not a 'freak' in a bad way, just in the I'm-the-only-one-here-who-didn't-finish- college kind of way. I mean you've got to admit that's pretty strange working where I work. I used to feel that the reason I didn't have as much confidence as the others was because I didn't have a degree. And a part of me still feels that.  
  
I know that if we are all philosophical about it people will say "you don't need a piece of paper to be a worthwhile person." Mind you, the very people who say such things are ones with such a piece of paper. But I've come to believe that it's not just the actual piece of paper that changes you but what you had to do in order to get that piece of paper.  
  
These people worked hard, they analysed and argued, debated and convinced. They stood up for their theories and convictions, and grew a back bone, basically. So when they came into a job like this one, working in the White House, they had a confidence that I was yet to gain. That piece of paper and all the experience it gave them made them self-assured and, for most of them, assertive.  
  
I long for the kind of self-assuredness, confidence and assertiveness that CJ possesses. I know I will never be half the woman she is. She is just such a special person, so strong, so formidable. All the men are secretly afraid of her. All the men except the President, that is. I think the President has a deep sense of respect for CJ. I imagine that he wants his daughters to turn out something like his Press Secretary, and it's no wonder given who their mother is. Mrs Bartlett and CJ are alike in many ways. I am amazed at how they can have such strength and yet so much compassion for others at the same time.  
  
When I broke up with Dr Free ride (forever known and referred to as such courtesy of Josh), my friend Amanda told me it had taken a lot of strength to walk out on him. She was studying to be a social worker at the time and phrases such as "it took a lot of strength to walk out" were kind of stock for her. I had always felt it took far more stupidity to stay with him for as long as I did rather than strength to leave. I mean, it wasn't like I was married to the guy or had kids or anything like that. I had a choice. I chose to believe his lies and his promises. I chose to think that things would get better once the stress of his studies were over. I chose to believe that he really did love me. And when I eventually chose to pack up and leave it wasn't strength that made me do it, is was the sudden realisation of just how stupid I really was.  
  
I was kind of in a slump after that. Even when I first met Josh, I was in a slump. My other friend Nicole had said that it had taken a lot of guts walking into that campaign office and demanding a job. Well, for, one it didn't really happen that way and two, it wasn't guts, it was sheer desperation.  
  
When I left, he who shall not be named, I knew I had to jump straight into something else. I had thought about contributing to the campaign when I had seen the President - I mean the then Governor - on television giving a speech about the future America we all desire, but at that time it was only a passing fancy - but you know all this.  
  
My point is, even in those moments where others have perceived me as having great strength, of having courage and even being assertive, there was always something else at work that meant I was really none of those things. And even as I grow more competent in my job, as I learn more and develop in other ways, I still lack a degree of assertiveness that I think I need. (And refusing to bring Josh coffee doesn't count!)  
  
I need to put myself out there more. I mean, I need to have more front. Maybe take a few risks. Maybe make a few demands (in a totally professional and positive kind of way).  
  
I need to be assertive.  
  
I need to confront Josh and find out just what the hell is going on.  
  
I need to be able to go up to him and demand to know what is running through that head of his.  
  
I've been trying. I really have. I know the last time I wrote in here I said I was going to just wait, I was going to be cautious. I thought that I would just be patient. I thought that it would be okay if I just went along with things and that maybe, just maybe, things would kind of work themselves out.  
  
Except they didn't.  
  
Things only just got more confusing.  
  
Sometimes, if I allow myself the luxury of really thinking about it, of going over every last detail, every sensation, that whole hand-holding incident just gets to me. It stirs up feelings, deep down inside of me. I would prefer if these feelings would stay settled, kind of like tea leaves in the bottom of a cold cup that has been standing for so long undrunk. But sometimes, it's like Josh takes this big invisible spoon and stirs for all he's worth and I go spinning out of control as those feelings rise up once more.  
  
Spinning out of control just like I was yesterday.  
  
I wish I could say as we approach polling night that all of the hard work is behind us, but I don't think the hard work will ever be behind us, re- election or otherwise. This week we've been working extremely long hours. Beginning work at seven in the a.m. and staying until three or four in the next morning is now a regular work day. It's not easy. But it's important.  
  
The one thing I hate about working long hours is not so much the fatigue, I do get exhausted just like everyone else, but the tension. After an eighteen hour day I tend to freeze up. My muscles protest at the abuse I subject them too. They cramp and go into spasms, and render me something like a walking human pretzel.  
  
We've had lectures about workplace safety and occupational hazards, the need to take a break from your computer every hour, the need to stretch, to rest your eyes, to keep hydrated even. But it's not like we really get the chance to do any of those things in the jobs that we do. We can't take a break when there is some international or otherwise crisis. We just can't. Everything, including to an extent our health, is secondary. Sam worked almost forty-eight hours straight once with no voice. We soldier on. We persevere. And we help each other as much as possible.  
  
Yesterday, I'll admit, I was struggling, but I've struggled on plenty of other days. Josh and I were working in his office. He was dictating and I was typing directly into his p.c. To be honest I wasn't really paying attention to everything he said. I was sort of on auto pilot by this stage - we'd been working on this particular thing for the past four hours. It got to a stage where I was solely concentrating on each word that came out of his mouth rather than his sentences as a whole. All I remember is that it was something to do with tax cuts for parents paying for their kids' education, but other than that I couldn't tell you specifics.  
  
Josh didn't seem tired at all. I hate it when he gets like that. He stood behind me talking a mile a minute, sometimes pacing across the room, sometimes coming to lean over me directly, and I was typing furiously, trying to keep up, when he stopped and paused to read the notes that Toby had sent over.  
  
Sometimes you don't realise just how exhausted you are until you stop doing something. Sitting there waiting for Josh to start talking again I suddenly felt totally and utterly exhausted. But what was worse was the fact that the muscles and tendons in my neck and shoulders were clenched so tight that I didn't think I would ever get them to relax again. I started stretching, easing knots out of places, rolling my neck around to try and loosen up. Every so often I would feel a satisfying 'pop' as things snapped back into place. I needed a long hot bath, but I knew that that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, especially when Josh started up again even more enthusiastic than he had been before (which I didn't think was possible!).  
  
He seemed so focused on what he was he was doing. Hell, I 'know' he was focused. Which is why I don't think he realised what he was doing when the next thing I knew, his hands were on my neck and shoulders rubbing and massaging away.  
  
Oh, the things that man can do with his hands.  
  
At first I froze but it didn't seem to make any difference to him. My hands were poised above the keys, stopped in mid sentence. I know my heart began to race almost immediately. I remember hearing the roar in my ears as blood surged throughout my body as he pressed and kneaded the tender flesh of my shoulders. And then. you can't blame me, I was tired, I was exhausted and what he was doing to me was the most satisfying thing anyone else has done to me in such a long time, I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensations with a deeply contented sigh. I mean there really wasn't anything sexual about it - at first. I don't think Josh meant it to be anything other than what it was. But that is the problem, between the neck rubbing and the handholding from the other day just what did Josh think he was doing?  
  
I sat there transfixed as it were, wondering, as if I was in some dream, what was going on, what was Josh doing to me. I was sitting there waiting, not really wanting it to end; it was heavenly, just what I needed, in more ways then one. He had managed to ease away the tension of the day and replace it with the nervousness of the moment. I had been searching for signs since the meeting with Stackhouse. And I sat there waiting and wondering, worrying and enjoying it all at the same time, just waiting for him to say something - which, eventually, he did.  
  
"Donna," he whispered against my ear. "You've stopped typing."  
  
His hands had stilled and his tone was like being doused in ice cold water. My eyes sprung open as I abruptly straightened myself in my chair mumbling my apologies. My cheeks were probably stained red with embarrassment for getting so caught up in the moment like some virginal old maid. God, I had practically swooned in my chair.  
  
"It won't be long now, I promise," he said, as I took up my position above the keys once more. "I know it's late - no early- but just another ten minutes."  
  
I nodded not trusting myself to speak at the moment least my voice come out all squeaky. He dropped his hands as he returned to the pacing that had occupied him for most of the night. And without sounding like a desperate school girl I missed him from the moment his skin left mine.  
  
Now I don't know whether to be angry with myself or. or. well, I don't know what the other option should be. I should have seen it for what it was. It was merely an offer of relief. Sheer and total relief. A gesture. An innocent gesture from one friend to another. Well that's what I will keep telling myself. My boss was just trying to alleviate the tension and discomfit that his assistant was feeling.  
  
But.  
  
If I imagine it now, it could have gone so differently. I would have closed my eyes and relaxed further into his touch. My lips would have parted on a soft sigh that Josh would have heard. He would have changed his technique and moved further down between my shoulder blades causing me to drop my head back and to the side as a small appreciative moan passed my lips. His thumbs would have caressed each vertebrae, causing little gasps in my throat. The sheer pleasure of his touch would have intoxicated me, so much so that when he leant down to capture my lips with his I would have been powerless to resist.  
  
OH MY GOD.  
  
Okay if I didn't have this little policy of crossing out things that I have written in my diary then that paragraph would have surely been forever stricken from these pages. I can't believe I just wrote that. I'm blaming it on exhaustion.  
  
I think I'll blame everything on exhaustion.  
  
I'm delusional because I am so exhausted.  
  
And Josh is delusional too. He only massaged my neck because he wasn't thinking straight because he was exhausted.  
  
Keep it simple, Donna. Don't read too much into things.  
  
The hand holding, the massaging both happened because Josh was tired.  
  
See, I knew there was a simple explanation for things.  
  
But damn, it's just my luck that as soon as I think that thought another pops into my head to make me doubt it. Josh and I have been exhausted before, many, many times. But never before has he held my hand or massaged my neck, so just what is going on?  
  
Maybe if I was a little more assertive I would pose that very question to him. Maybe if I could take a risk and put myself out there and have a bit of front I could straighten all this out.  
  
But to be honest, I'm too cowardly.  
  
No 'coward' isn't the right word.  
  
Hesitant. Cautious.  
  
Okay, I'm going to make an admission here. The real reason I don't want to ask him is that maybe I will find out and it would have all been nothing and meant nothing and then maybe Josh will get all uncomfortable that I had misinterpreted it and brought it up when it was a non issue for him and he would stop doing it.  
  
Phew  
  
That's it. I don't want it to stop. As much as his sudden new closeness to me is confusing I don't seek to clarify it because I don't want it to end.  
  
So I guess I won't be asserting myself anytime soon. I guess I have made my decision to remain confused, slightly satisfied, but still confused.  
  
Unless, he does something like this again.  
  
Fini  
  
Author's note: Okay I guess I'm like Donna in this piece and lack a certain degree of assertiveness except when it comes to requesting feedback. I had so much great feedback on the last diary entry, some of the suggestions I have put in here. Others - well I couldn't get them to work, especially those who asked Josh's POV which I can't give right now because this is Donna's Diary. Maybe in a later entry she will relay a conversation where Josh explains himself to her.  
  
Anyway I love feedback. Really there are several pieces that I haven't finished because I literally received NO feedback - not even an " I read it, Liked/hated/though it was okay" kind of response. I mean sometimes I just don't want to bother with a particular piece if I don't get anything out of it. I mean if I was one of those writers who wrote purely for myself, to further develop my writing skills and got enjoyment from simply finishing a piece and not needing anyone else to read it why would I post it on a fic group list?  
  
I need feedback to continue it's like fuel for my car. no that doesn't make any sense.  
  
Anyway this one is for Katie who begged so nice. I finished it right after you e mailed me.  
  
Feedback Rhasa4@yahoo.com 


	3. Entry 3 Stress and your average, usual, ...

Title: The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 3 Author: Rhasa Category: Drama/Humour/Angst Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Vague Season 4 Summary: Donna continues to muse over Josh's strange behaviour. Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made (but I often wonder just what life would be like if it did). No Infringement intended. Feedback: YES please Rhasa4@yahoo.com Archive: Yeah okay.  
  
The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 3 'Stress and your average, usual, typical day'  
  
By Rhasa  
  
Stress.  
  
I hate that word.  
  
It's not really a word that is used all that often in the White House. No really, it isn't, even though if there was one workplace which could be considered stressful it would be this one, for all the obvious reasons.  
  
We make decisions here that affect the lives of millions of people, sometimes billions of people if the repercussions affect the globe. We worry about the faces of those millions and billions of people as we try to get it right, but sometimes we don't. We do our best. But it's stressful to have that amount of responsibility.  
  
Then it's stressful in other ways, like working eighteen to twenty hours a day, sometimes more. No forty hour work week for us, little or no vacation time, skipping meals and living on a cocktail of adrenaline and caffeine, all put stress on our bodies not to mention our minds. If the public really knew of how hard the President and Josh and Leo and Toby, Sam and all the others worked, I doubt that they would let us drive a school bus let alone run the country. Still, it could be worse. I think police have stressful jobs, so do E.R. doctors with life and death situations in front of them day after day.  
  
Then there's the other kind of stress you have from working where I work. The danger. The worry. After Rosslyn and Simon's death I don't think any of us are as complacent about just how dangerous this job can be. There are risks. Our intermittent lockdowns never let me forget that. We must have had eight so far this year, and while I can tell that some of the staff are getting used to them, a wave of nervous nausea still manages to wash over me every time it happens. I'll admit I haven't learnt not to shake during one of those things. I find my hands still trembling half hour later.  
  
It's funny to see how everyone deals with stress in a place like this. Toby plays with his balls - oh god that can be read so wrong - Toby throws his rubber balls against a wall (that's better), or against Sam's head if he's really, really stressed. I think that particular little habit started on the campaign. CJ dances. She cranks up the volume on her stereo and sways around her office like she's at her senior Prom (which incidentally she never went to) until Toby comes and bangs on her door. Sam paces and writes and sometimes writes as he paces. He 'internalises' a lot. And Josh.  
  
Well.  
  
Josh.  
  
Normally, I would say Josh bellows to relieve stress, a fact that you already know. (I'm not even going to get into the whole other PTSD thing). But to be honest his bellowing is not restricted to when he is stressed, he also bellows when he is basking in the rays of victory, as he likes to put it. He bellows when he's frustrated, gloating, lazy, sick, hungry, happy, grumpy, bashful, sleepy, dopey. well, you get the idea.  
  
So that's what he does - normally, when he's normal. Which he certainly wasn't today.  
  
But that's not entirely true. He was normal today, up to a point. It was a typical stressful, frantic, playing catch up kind of day.  
  
Average.  
  
Usual.  
  
Typical.  
  
Predictable, even.  
  
That is, until Josh kissed me - which I'm blaming on stress, of course.  
  
Yeah I know what I said last time. I know I said that I would wait for another sign, but I really don't think this is it. This kiss was something else entirely. Let me explain.  
  
Today was one of those days. Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Probably the most frustrating thing was that we lost seven, count them seven, votes on 452. The stress level in the West Wing was at an all time high. Toby's balls were bouncing as hard as ever, Sam practically wore a hole in the carpet and Josh bellowed constantly from his office as he made phone call after phone call to swing back some votes. To say things were a little tense would be a gross understatement. Even though it was stressful, it was still a typical day, or so I thought.  
  
It ended up that Leo ordered Josh (by way of much yelling and bellowing of his own) to a dinner, a formal affair where Morrow, Ellis, Daymon and Carlton were going to be. He wanted Josh to soften them up a bit, somewhere away from the White House. Now knowing Leo as I do I could see that this was some kind of punishment for Josh. Josh should have seen the loss of seven votes coming and he should have prevented it, but. well, sometimes things slip by even the best of them. So this dinner was josh's last chance. There was a chance that Morrow, Ellis and Carlton were swaying and that they just needed a little bit of a friendly push and no one pushes quite like Josh does. So at the last moment, Josh had me running to get his tux, then helping him get ready so in his lateness he wouldn't miss them entirely.  
  
Josh is a big boy. He can dress himself. But he cannot for some reason seem to tie a bow tie. It's lucky for me that my Grandpa Moss only ever wore bowties. Bowties are my specialty. I know this. Josh knows this. This is why we fall into this particular little routine where he comes to me to get dressed for one of these dinner things.  
  
Josh, instead of pretending that he is the master of all he surveys including all the bowties across the land, simply hands the offending accessory to me, his trusty and more than capable assistant, and proceeds to talk a mile a minute about whatever is on his mind, while it takes me all of forty seconds to put the finishing touches to his apparel.  
  
In all the times that I have performed this little favour for Josh, he has always sat or stood there ranting or raving about one thing or another. It's hard for a girl to get a word in edgewise. I know that it's all part of this nervous thing Josh has going, Seldom does he attend one of these functions in order to just have a good time. No. Josh goes to these things to work, and when he works he likes to be prepared. So when he stood before me, words whirring out of his mouth, it was the usual kind of thing. He was preparing to meet and sway Morrow, Ellis and Carlton, and he was using me as his sounding board and a way to relieve stress while he did it - nothing unusual about that. I listened as I tied his tie, corrected him on a few minor points like a good assistant would and patted him on the shoulder when I was done, just like I have perhaps a dozen or so times before.  
  
Only unlike before, when Josh would simply stand, make a final adjustment to the tie and maybe mutter a muted 'thanks', this time he stood, said "thanks" and quickly kissed me on the cheek.  
  
And then froze while looking at me - for maybe a second or two.  
  
It was the stress. Really it was. It was not a sign or a signal or anything like that. But that didn't stop my stomach from doing flips - again.  
  
And as fast as it had happened it was over with his next words.  
  
"Ah Donna, you may as well go home. I won't need you after I get back."  
  
I can't even remember replying, but I must have said something simple like, "Okay," because he smiled nodded and left. Just like that.  
  
When I think about it now it seemed more like a peck on the cheek rather than a kiss and I'm guessing it was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me by the way he stood and stared at me like a deer caught in headlights right before it scurries back into the forest. And I'm guessing by his level of surprise that he hadn't thought about doing what he did until after he did it - typical Josh fashion. And if I am really honest with myself then I'd admit that it was more like a peck out of gratitude not unlike the ones I have seen him give Mrs Landingham at Christmas and it was so totally not like the hand holding or the shoulder massaging in any way whatsoever.  
  
Yeah, I'll just keep telling myself that. That'll work.  
  
What was it that I wrote last entry? Oh yeah, I don't seek to clarify this new closeness between us because I don't want it to end, which it might if I were to ever confront him about it and he would tell me just how off target I am. Something like that.  
  
Once again I could analyse it to death but I won't. I'll accept it for what it probably was, a show of gratitude for my small gesture which sometimes can make an average, usual, typical stressful day a little more tolerable.  
Feedback: Please do Rhasa4@yahoo.com  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Thanks to everyone for the wonderful feedback for the last entry. I guess I was in a ranting mood last time - apologies. Anyway, once again I have taken some of your suggestions and put them in here. There are others that I just can't work out. I can't have too much dialogue because it is Donna's diary and diaries tend to not have dialogue - well, at least my diary/journal doesn't. 


	4. Entry 4 Not so cool and calm

Title: The Diary of Donnatella Moss Author: Rhasa Rating: PG-13 Category: Drama/Angst Spoilers: None - I think. Disclaimer: These characters belong to Aaron Sorkin and all his neighbourhood friends. I'm making no money off this. No infringement is intended. What I would give to be invited to play in Aaron's sandbox. Feedback: Makes me write Rhasa4@yahoo.com  
  
The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 4 'Not so cool and calm' By Rhasa  
  
I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I always seem to write in here when I'm having a problem. These pages should be called the problem pages. Seldom are they filled with happy events. I turn to these lines and these words only to describe confused moments, angry moments, sad moments, hell even nervous moments, but rarely happy moments.  
  
In real life I'm really not the totally self-doubting, depressed nervous wreck of a woman that seems to lurk in these pages.  
  
No. Outside of this book, I'm Donna.  
  
I'm intriguing.  
  
Beguiling.  
  
Perky.  
  
Quirky.  
  
And Impervious.  
  
That is, I am all those things elsewhere, just not here.  
  
Which I suppose is a good thing. But sometimes I get sick of keeping up the façade. The "everything-is-totally-okay-in-my-life" façade. I get sick of putting on a semi-smiling face and laughing my semi-happy laugh, when deep down all I want to do is go back home and curl up under my covers for a few months or years. But I'll only admit that in here. Thoughts like that one aren't usual part of my standard behaviour.  
  
I think a lot about just how much my standards have changed over the years. Well, I guess I mean my expectations more than my standards. When I was in high school, I thought about what I wanted out of life, what I wanted for my future, about as much as everyone else did. I worried about my potential. Would I get into college; would I find someone to love me; would I have an exciting career- that kind of stuff. And when I really thought about it, I was sure that I would have all those things, in one way or another.  
  
My parents had always told me that I could achieve anything if I put my mind to it. I know they were right- to an extent. I always found it odd that my mother would give me those little pep talks (which seemed to become more and more frequent during my senior year) mostly when we were together in the kitchen. She would be showing me how to cook one thing or another, or how to reverse a collar on one of dad's shirts, preparing me for my domestic duties all the while telling me I could have any career I wanted if I wanted it badly enough. To this day she doesn't understand why I got so annoyed at her for saying that. It was nice to know my parents believed in me, but what message was she really conveying as she told me to reach for the stars all the while teaching how to fall back on being a housewife? I could achieve anything and I could also starch socks with egg whites. The world would be at my feet.  
  
But some things I knew then I would never achieve. Like getting into Yale or Harvard - nope, just wasn't going to happen (not that I wanted to go to Yale or Harvard), or dating the Captain of the football Team (Andrew Hawkings - yummy! I think he's now a gay activist.) - never happened; or becoming a lawyer, or a doctor or an occupational health therapist - strike on all three counts. So I learned, as I guess all of us do, to change my expectations. No Yale or Harvard but maybe U of Wisconsin. No Andrew Hawkings but maybe Tommy Reardon (head of the debating club). No doctor or lawyer or occupational health therapist but maybe a teacher or nurse or school counsellor.  
  
My expectations changed. Despite what my parents told me I could achieve I revised my expectations - downwards, which, in truth was more realistic, but it was downwards nonetheless. I guess the whole problem at the moment, is that at this age I just never figured I would still be revising my expectations downwards. I thought that by now I would have achieved - well, more.  
  
I know I have no right to complain, and I'm not really complaining. Maybe I'm lamenting. My Nanna Moss always said, "You make your bed- you lie in it." And I guess that's what I did with the whole college/Dr Freeride thing. I never knew, though, that loving someone, or at least thinking you love someone could ruin all three goals - the happy ever after fairytale, the successful college degree and the subsequent more successful career.  
  
For the past five or so years I have always told myself that I will get back to those goals. But I now wonder if I'm kidding myself. Who begins college at my age? I know some do but not many. As for the career, I may always have a job, I guess working for the White House is always going to look good on a resume, it won't be the McDonald's drive thru for me, but I don't know if I'll have a "career' as such. And as for finding someone who will love me. As for finding someone to share my life with. I can't help it. Just writing about it causes a lump in my throat. As for finding that special someone - I don't know if that's ever going to happen. What scares me most, is that maybe I just might have to revise that particular expectation downwards once again.  
  
My mother also told me that there is always someone out there for everyone. She told me, right after I got braces, that I 'was' lovable. That someone, somewhere would love me and love me forever. Now, I wonder if she wasn't stretching that a bit too far, just like she did with her belief that I could do anything.  
  
If I look at it in a clinical sort of way, not everyone has someone in their lives. There are many, many lonely people out there. I guess I just hoped that one of them wouldn't be me.  
  
For some reason I feel as if I am running out of time. No, it's not my biological clock or anything. I don't want kids - well at least not right now; that's the furthest thing from my mind. But the longer it gets the harder it gets somehow; which is why I'm thinking, albeit in this moment of weakness, that I should confront Josh about what is happening between us.  
  
I know I said that I would wait. I know I said I wouldn't be asserting myself anytime soon, and that I had decided to remain confused, but suddenly I have to know, for so many different reasons.  
  
I have to know if I am wasting my time, dreaming, hoping for something that may never eventuate. I have to know if I should be revising my expectations. I have to figure out if I will be contented to have his friendship if that is the only thing on offer. I guess I'm kind of impatient like that.  
  
And here I was thinking that I was being so calm and cool about it all.  
Feedback: Have I already said just how much fb makes my day? Please.. Rhasa4@yahoo.com  
  
Author's Note -  
  
Some of you are concerned that Donna's diary entries are too dark for her - that she would be - more.more Donnaish. I guess that means you think she would be perkier or whatever defining characteristic you have assigned to her. I think that Donna would have to have an outlet for her darker moods, her confusion, and a place to sort out problems. I mean everyone has problems, Donna is not immune. So I have made that place her diary - hence the darker side of Donna comes out in her entries and this one in particular. These pages are not always a place for her to be funny or quirky or quick. If you think otherwise - sorry, this is just how I'm writing it at the moment. 


	5. Entry 5 I can't get no satisfaction

Title: The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 5 "I can't get no satisfaction" Author: Rhasa Category: Angst Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: None I think Disclaimer: Not mine. Aaron Sorkin's. No money being made. Used with all due respect. No infringement intended. Feedback: I live for it - especially on a day like today. Rhasa4@yahoo.com. Author's Note: See end  
  
The Diary of Donnatella Moss - Entry 5 "I can't get no satisfaction"  
  
by Rhasa  
There have been very few times during my life when I could have confidently said, "I am totally satisfied."  
  
I'm not so sure humans were ever designed to be totally satisfied. With anything. It's obviously part of our nature to strive for bigger and better, higher and faster, otherwise we wouldn't have evolved the way we did. I think our level of dissatisfaction is what sets us apart from the animal world, well, apart from the other obvious differences as well.  
  
Satisfaction is highly overrated. No one will ever be 100% happy. Oh, okay maybe the Dalai Lama, or some other kind of Holy Man who possess enlightenment and all that, but just let's face it, the Dalai Lama is a freak, in a totally I-wish-I-was-just-like-him-kind of way. If you can't be 100% happy is it still possible to be satisfied? I guess so, but I'm noticing that even though we may be satisfied with the car park we got this morning, or the fair and just tax return we just received (is there such a thing?), or the job the dry cleaners did on your one and only Donna Karan suit, we still spend most of our time brooding about just how dissatisfied we are with so many things in our lives that the glass always tends to be seen as half empty.  
  
I never thought I was going to turn out to be one of those half empty glass kind of people.  
  
But here I am.  
  
I'm totally blaming today's horoscope for this little self-revelation. This morning, there it was in black and white for everyone to see, "You will never be totally satisfied, so why knock yourself out trying?"  
  
Kind of pessimistic, don't you think?  
  
The fact is, that, despite never really being satisfied, and always striving for the bigger, better, higher, faster, richer, happier things in life if I don't knock myself out trying then I may as well just lay down and die. After a really, really shitty day I find myself going on for the very reason that tomorrow may be a better day than today. And so far that's been pretty much true.  
  
I guess what I've discovered is that being dissatisfied can be a wonderful thing.  
  
Ambition is based on one's own personal dissatisfaction.  
  
No one I know, who is truly ambitious, and believe me here in D.C there are quite a few ambitious people, is satisfied with their career. There are no purely contented people who are also ambitious. Contented people stay in the one job year after year after year, secure in the knowledge that they know what is expected of them and what they can expect of those around them. My uncle was like that. He was a foreman for forty-two years, pretty much for the same company. He was the most relaxed person I ever met. Never a worry. He lived in a small town, didn't drive (Yes he did NOT drive - ever. Never learnt, never wanted to, never did), took a packed lunch to work ever day, and always gave out my aunts' fruitcakes to everyone at the warehouse each Christmas.  
  
Was he satisfied? I asked him once, that very question, and he told me, "I've pretty much got what I want, I've definitely got what I need, and I'm satisfied I've lived a good life, been good to those around me and thanked those around me for being good to me. I'm satisfied - well, in truth, I'd be satisfied a lot more if I would have ever had the chance to visit the Great Pyramids of Egypt just once before I died."  
  
He did.  
  
Die that is. Alas, without seeing the Great Pyramids of Egypt.  
  
And while my uncle was seemingly dissatisfied with only one thing in life, there are a lot of things that I will never be satisfied with, and I'm the first to admit that some of them are pretty trivial.  
  
Like, I will never be satisfied with:  
  
My current level of education - okay not so much of a trivial matter; necessary for employment, hence income, hence standard of living and the ability to buy food and exist.  
  
My wage - see above note about standard of living, ability to buy food etc. The need for a higher wage will obviously go up and up and up with inflation and so I will always be dissatisfied with my income. Unless I win the lottery. Which is NEVER going to happen.  
  
My feet - bony, slabs of meat that rival any Hobbit from Hobbiton sans the hair. Until they develop wonderfully new technology in plastic surgery for feet I will never like them.  
  
Sex - sorry, I will never be satisfied with sex because there is no such thing as perfect sex. There's horrible what-was-I-thinking kind of sex, I- don't-think-that's-ever-going-to-happen-again sex, nice-but-next-time-I'll- drive kind of sex, interesting-let's-try-that-a-different-way kind of sex, really-really-good sex. oh hell you get the idea. But despite how good it can be, sex can never be perfect. That doesn't mean it can't be enjoyable, it just means that while I can be satisfied on a particular occasion by a particular individual it will never be totally satisfying as bigger and better things are obviously still out there and I will die while trying to find them. I guess that is not going to make sense to anyone but me.  
  
My mother's belief - that all women should know how to keep a house and home, all women should have children, and all should automatically sacrifice their careers for the benefit of their families. I mean I know this was how it was for my mother, but hell, things have changed. Women can have it all if they want to. We don't need to settle for less, if my time with Dr Freeride taught me something, that was it.  
  
Our country's claim of equality - women and men will never be equal until men start having children, which isn't going to happen.  
  
The coffee in the mess - I mean, really, with all the people who work here you'd think they'd find a way to make coffee that doesn't taste like they've used someone's gym sock as the filter. As well as a heap of other things.  
  
I guess you can't please all of the people all of the time.  
  
So while some of us continue to struggle with education issues and income issues and podiatry issues and intimacy issues and gender issues and equality issues and caffeine issues there's still some hope for the world. We will continue to demand satisfaction and we will continue to strive to make things better. It's this struggle that propels us forward and in many ways make us better for it.  
  
As I said, dissatisfaction can be a wonderful thing.  
  
At least some of the time.  
  
At other times, not being satisfied can be incredibly frustrating.  
  
Which I am now.  
  
Frustrated, I mean.  
  
On so many different levels.  
  
Okay, so this whole "Josh acting strangely toward me lately" thing has been frustrating. And I know I keep changing my mind about what to do about it. I know I first said I wouldn't do anything, and that I was satisfied to just let things take their course, and I wouldn't confront and I wouldn't push and all that. And then I know I said I felt like I had to know where I stood, I was no longer satisfied to just wait for Josh's next move, if there was to be one. It's a well known fact that women can change their mind.  
  
Which is what I've done.  
  
I am now resolved to confronting Josh.  
  
Lying here in my bath with a glass of Merlot writing these words, I have finally made the decision to confront him. I will ask him straight out just what the hell is going on. Maybe I won't use the word 'hell' (that's the Merlot talking - dutch courage and all that), but I will find some way to talk to him about all this; to be honest and open and straight to the point. And I won't be "satisfied" until I get a real answer. I know how Josh likes to side step all and anything personal. He is a master manoeuvrer. But I won't let him. Nope. We will hash this out before things start getting ridiculous, which I fear they already have.  
  
Take today for example of the ridiculous. Josh asked me to photocopy one of the education reports. A simple request, one that is made practically every day. But I stood there and stared at him like he had suddenly grown another head. Why? Because he said 'please'.  
  
"Donna, would you make a copy of this, please?"  
  
Just like that. He said the 'p' word. No awkward stumbling or mumbling, nothing like the trouble Fonzy used to have saying 's.s.sss.ssss..ssssorry.'  
  
Joshua Lyman actually made a pleasant, polite and courteous request of his assistant. And I'm standing there thinking, "Oh my God, it's like another little clue" (insert Rosie O'Donnell's voice right here!). That was until I mentally kicked myself.  
  
I can understand wondering about the hand holding, I can understand being curious about the neck massaging, but thinking it was some sort of sign when he simply said 'please'? Who is this Donna Moss person anyway? I've become a stranger to myself.  
  
No. Things cannot continue the way they are. I will confront Josh about his behaviour and I will demand a satisfying answer. Something is going on - I think.  
Author's Note:  
  
Thanks again for all the wonderful feedback I received for the last entries. I tried to put as many of your suggestions in here as I could. I'm hoping to write the big 'confrontation' scene next entry, but there is one other scene I want to tackle first - maybe I'll combine the two. Part of me doesn't want to end the series though. Hmmm I suppose I could keep it going..  
  
The little story about the uncle is all true except it was my hubby's grandfather. Can you imagine not driving? My mother doesn't, never has, whereas I drive 150 kms a day to get my kids to and from school and can't imagine not being mobile.  
  
I don't know if Donna really doesn't like her feet. I can't remember if there was ever a reference to that fact in an episode or to the fact that she once took ballet. Maybe it is one of those character myths that get started and perpetuated by fanfic writers and I have read it somewhere else. If you know, please let me know. Just interested. 


End file.
